Remembering Everly (Lost & Found #2)

by J. L. Berg

  “So,” he began, setting his phone down on the desk in front of him. He sat back in the seat, making himself comfortable. Suddenly I had his full attention.

  Shit.

  “Did you think you could get away with seeing Magnolia Yorke without me knowing?”

  “How did you?”

  He just smiled. The little shit had had me followed.

  “We’re just friends.” I answered, keeping my expression blank.

  “You’re just friends with the daughter of a multibillionaire?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “We met at a bar several months ago. Went on a few dates.”

  “And you never thought about all that money…just ripe for the taking?”

  “It’s not like that,” I answered firmly.

  His expression hardened as his eyes locked on mine. “Then make it. Jesus fuck, August, don’t you get it? An account like that could set us up for the rest of our entire lives. Stop pussyfooting around and do what you have to do.”

  He pushed off the chair and stalked toward the door, pausing before he exited. “Or I will.”

  His haunting last words echoed through the small space long after he left.

  I should never have called her.

  I should have never gotten her involved. Because now, whether I liked it or not, Magnolia was going to end up smack dab in the middle of my shitty mess.

  Welcome to my world, August, I remembered Trent saying during that party in college.

  He’d been ruling over my life for well over a decade.

  Somehow, some way, he had to be stopped.

  Chapter Five

  Everly

  It had been a quiet day at work so far, but that didn’t keep my feet and back from aching more and more over the hours of endless standing. I was the commander of the coffee today—barista extraordinaire, so in addition to my sore, tired feet and aching back, I was also a sweaty mess from the steamer. I was pretty sure my half-assed attempt at vanity this morning, when I’d tried to apply makeup at 5 a.m., was currently running down the sides of my face. I probably resembled something close to one of those women in the horror flicks right before she bites the dust. I kind of felt that way, too.

  We hadn’t had a new customer in over thirty minutes, though, and after cleaning every piece of equipment to a high polish, I decided to reward myself with a double espresso. In my current sweaty state, something iced probably would have been a better choice, but I was jonesing for something with a little extra buzz.

  As Trudy refilled the bakery case and jabbered on about her latest conquest—a waiter down the street at one of the restaurants we liked to frequent—I danced slowly from one foot to the other, waiting for my espresso to brew.

  “So, I look at him and go, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ and he just glances down at me with this dopey smile. Was that not clear enough? How dumb are men?”

  Shaking my head, I snorted out a laugh. Trudy was always hopeless when it came to dating. Always moving from one man to the next, she was notorious for hopping into bed too soon, latching on too quickly, and finding out she’d picked the wrong one just as fast.

  “Have you ever considered not laying it all out there, Trudy? Maybe just a little flirting to let him know you’re interested and then seeing where it goes?”

  “Like, go on a date or something?”

  As the last drop of my double shot trickled from the espresso machine, I tried not to giggle.

  “Yes, like a date. One that doesn’t end in your bed. Or his,” I clarified.

  “So, how will I know if I like him?”

  The sad part was she was asking this question with sincerity. The even sadder part was I was the orphan girl, who’d practically raised myself because my dozen or so foster parents had been too self-involved to do so themselves. Trudy? Her parents were amazing. They came in every weekend like clockwork to visit her at work, give her money if she needed it, and pat her on the head on their way out, affirming their love and affection for their only daughter.

  How she’d managed to come to the conclusion that sex was the only way to a man’s heart was beyond me. The fact that I was the one trying to set her straight was slightly ironic.

  Grabbing my cup, I made my way up to the front so we could speak face to face. Her lovely bright eyes found mine as she rose from the bakery case, closing it tightly as she brushed off her apron. “You talk to him—he’ll hopefully listen, assuming he’s not a jackass. Then you do this same process, in reverse. He’ll talk, you listen. Somewhere in between all this, you’ll eat, and worry about every piece of food you put into your mouth, wondering if you have bits of lettuce in your teeth or if there’s sauce around your lips.”

  “That sounds horrible.”

  “It can be,” I answered honestly. “But if you’re with the right person, it can be absolutely amazing.”

  “Amazing enough to give you that dopey smile you’ve got right now?” she laughed.

  Grabbing the towel I had slung over my shoulder, I threw it at her, snickering. “Yes, exactly. Just admit it—you want the dopey smile, don’t you?”

  “Maybe…” she began to answer, but stopped abruptly when we heard a rumble race through the shop.

  “What was—” I said.

  “Earthquake!” she yelled. Like trained soldiers, the few locals we had inside jumped under tables, some moving away from the windows to seek shelter together. Earthquakes weren’t everyday occurrences for Californians, but happened often enough that we knew what to do when that familiar roar came tearing through a building.

  Trudy and I ducked beneath the front counter, covering our heads as we huddled next to each other. The quake wasn’t major and barely lasted the time it took for us to find a safe spot to hide. As soon as the ground fell quiet, we waited, wondering if it would come alive again.

  A minute or two passed in silence before we rose.

  “Everyone okay?” I asked, looking around to see our loyal patrons rising from the floor.

  Each nodded, standing and brushing their pants and bare knees.

  “How about another round of coffee for everyone?” Trudy offered, “On the house?”

  Of course this perked everyone up and helped ease the jitters as they settled back into their normal spots. Some pulled out cell phones to check in with loved ones, while others just carried on with what they were doing before all the commotion had started.

  After a quick hand rinsing, I got started on everyone’s coffee. These were my customers, so I knew what they liked. A half-calf cappuccino, a caramel macchiato, and an Americano with room. Easy.

  I noticed Trudy was busy in the front, pulling a few things out of the case, and I smiled. She may not have the whole dating thing down, but her heart was always in the right place.

  Tiptoeing out from behind the counter, she carefully began setting down little treats in front of each customer, with a little kiss and hug to top it off. While some of us might retreat into our shells after a startling event, she did the opposite, stretching out wide to help anyone within reach.

  Maybe that’s why she couldn’t find love. Perhaps her overeagerness was always placing her in a false path—always causing her to seek love in the wrong way. I only hoped that one day she would find someone lucky enough to be deserving of everything she had to offer.

  “Well, that was something, huh?” Trudy commented as she came up beside me to help finish up. She grabbed the whipped cream and topped off the macchiato, adding a touch of caramel drizzle for decoration.

  “Yeah, definitely didn’t expect that when I woke up this morning.”

  “We never do. But they come anyway. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?” she said as I watched a shot of espresso brew.

  “About what?”

  “Life, I guess. I mean, if this had been the big one—the end. It would have been just me and you,” she smiled.

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  She laughed. “It’s a great thing, but it
definitely makes me think more about your dating comments. It’s time I start doing things differently. God knows, when and if the big one comes, I want to know I have more than just you to reach for at the end of the world.”

  I handed her the cup of coffee as she sauntered off to serve everything, leaving me reeling in thought. I knew she was just thinking theoretically, but it sent my mind in a tailspin.

  When those tremors had started, I hadn’t thought about Ryan at all. For one brief second, when the shop shook and tremors shook my bones, there was only one face I saw.

  August.

  I shook my head, realizing I was probably making a big deal of nothing.

  If it had been something major, surely I would have reached out for Ryan.—called out his name as the world crumbled around us?

  Right?

  Or was I giving my love away for all the wrong reasons…just like Trudy?

  * * *

  I felt in a bit of a daze the rest of the day, as I tried to process everything.

  The news said it was a minor earthquake—nothing to worry about.

  Yet, in my mind, it felt anything but.

  Was I marrying Ryan for the right reasons? Looking back, I remember believing I was making the right choice when I’d asked him to take me back.

  It had all seemed so clear. But was it?

  My head was swimming with a million different emotions as I drove toward the bridal shop. I felt like I was going through the motions rather than living them as I parked a few blocks away and just sat there, still and silent, trying to muster the courage to get out of the car.

  Go pick up your wedding dress, Everly, I chanted in my mind, and yet my feet stayed firmly planted on the floor of the car.

  Dear God, what was wrong with me?

  Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as the air left my lungs. I could feel the sobs just about to break through. I would not do this.

  Not again. I couldn’t. I’d made a promise. I’d said yes and given this man my heart.

  I couldn’t walk away again.

  Just as I was choking back tears, fighting myself for control, I saw a sign that stopped me dead in my tracks.

  Grand Opening.

  Squinting, I tried to make out the letters through my blurry, tear-soaked eyes.

  “He did it,” I whispered, a smile replacing the tortured frown I’d had.

  Getting out of the car, I quickly wiped away my tears and jogged across the street, the familiar smell of burgers and fries lulling me into a wonderful feeling of security as I pushed open the door and looked around.

  Everything looked different yet oddly the same.

  The location had obviously changed, which was a vast improvement. This part of town was known for its vibrant young crowd of shoppers and tourists. With the updated decor he’d chosen, I knew he’d do well this time around.

  “Hey, hey—there’s my girl!” Joey exclaimed, his familiar Boston accent full and thick, as he came out from what I assumed was the kitchen. He looked different, but again, the same. There was a vibrancy in his eyes that hadn’t been there that long ago afternoon when he’d made me my favorite birthday burger as a favor to August. He’d cleaned up since the last time I’d seen him, too—gotten a haircut—but was once again dressed in chef gear, ready to grill and fry in his own kitchen again.

  “I can’t believe this!” I said, giving him a big hug.

  “Fancy, huh?” he said, smiling widely, pride beaming from his eyes.

  “How did you manage this?”

  “You, and your wealthy boyfriend,” he explained.

  I looked at him oddly, ignoring the boyfriend comment, and waited for him to explain.

  “The designer watch and the huge chunk of cash August gave me was enough to convince the suits over at the bank to give me a business loan.”

  “That’s fantastic. I’m so happy for you!”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be here without your help. So, why don’t you take a seat and I’ll make you a burger?” he offered, pointing to a sleek corner booth near my right.

  My mouth watered just thinking about eating a burger and a pile of fries.

  “I would love to, but I actually have an appointment down the street to pick up my wedding dress. Can I take a rain check?”

  His eyes lit up and he smiled. “August didn’t mention you two were getting hitched. I guess you’ll be coming in for an anniversary burger once a year too?”

  I gave him a sad smile. “Actually, August and I broke up a few months ago. I’m marrying my former fiancé Ryan. It’s all a little complicated.” I explained. My focus fell to the polished floor, rather than to his falling expression.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, that’s just too bad. I didn’t know,” he answered, clearly embarrassed.

  “Wait,” I interrupted his mumbling as my head shot back up. “You said August didn’t tell you? Are you still talking to him?”

  “What? Oh yeah. All the time. He helped me set this all up. Went to the bank with me and everything—even bought me a suit for the meeting. He’s been my lifesaver.”

  I was stunned.

  “I see.” I had no idea what else to say.

  “You two are really over, huh?” he asked softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I ask why? I mean, if you don’t mind. It’s just that a guy who would do something as crazy as what he did for you—you just didn’t seem like the type to fall apart.”

  Taking a deep breath, I gave a ghost of a smile as I tried to steady my emotions. “He didn’t love me enough to stay.”

  “Or maybe he loved you enough to let go?” Joey offered with a friendly pat on my shoulder. I gave him one last hug before leaving as I made my way down the street.

  If only that were true, Joey.

  If only that were true.

  * * *

  I’d just finished stuffing the giant white garment bag in our closet when I heard Ryan shout his arrival.

  “Honey, I’m home!” he said playfully from the living room.

  I hid the ivory satin shoes I’d bought to go with my dress and promptly closed the closet door, feeling like I’d just hidden away some deep dark secret in the belly of our closet.

  “Hey!” he said from the doorway. “Whatcha doing in here?”

  “Secret wedding stuff,” I answered with a smile.

  “So, shoving your wedding dress in the closet, then?”

  “Hey, how did you guess?” I exclaimed, folding my arms across my chest.

  “Because you had an appointment to pick up said wedding dress today. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d need someplace to put it.”

  “Oh. Right.” Looking around, I bit my lip and finally said, “Well, don’t peek at it. It will give us seven years’ bad luck in bed or something.”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m pretty sure that’s not true. But, don’t worry. I want to be surprised when you walk down that aisle.”

  “Oh, you will be. Especially when you find out I’m wearing a burlap sack. So sexy.”

  “Oh yeah?” He took a few steps closer, until we were nearly touching. “And how does this burlap sack fit? Is it really tight around here?” His hands wrapped around my backside, curving around each shapely, round cheek.

  “Totally. Chafes like a bitch, but fits me like a glove.”

  “I’m trying to woo you here,” he laughed, shaking his head as his shoulders shook.

  “Oh, okay. My bad. I’ll try to be more accommodating. Try again.” I immediately went blank in the face, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

  His deep, unfiltered laughter was all I heard as he threw me over his shoulder and we both toppled onto the bed.

  “You’re insane, you know that?” he said as his fingers gently swept away the few pieces of hair that fell in my face.

  “Yeah, I know. But you love me,” I said.

  “Yes. I do.”

  I froze, instantly. The words coming back to me, as quickly as the memory. The
smell of thousand-year-old trees and the sound of laughter as August repeated the same exact words to me beneath the redwoods.

  My heart tightened a little as I fought off the pain. Brick had reminded me it would never stop hurting. He was right. Some days, it only hurt a little—barely enough to notice. Other days, I’d agonize over what I’d done, where I’d gone wrong. Those days, sometimes it hurt to breathe.

  It made me second-guess everything.

  “Hey, the earthquake,” I said, “You never called me. Where you okay?”

  Obviously he was fine since he was lying beside me, but as I remembered watching the coffee shop patrons call their loved ones, I realized I’d never once reached for my own phone.

  And Ryan hadn’t reached for his.

  Wasn’t there something to be said about that?

  “It was such a small one, I figured if you needed me, you’d call,” he shrugged, pushing off the bed. I watched him walk down the hallway toward the kitchen and wondered.

  If the end of the world came, would I be the one he reached out for?

  Chapter Six

  August

  It was nearing eight long hours at the office, and I was currently waiting for my sixth—possibly seventh—cup of coffee to brew in the break room.

  When I’d returned back to this hellhole, Cheryl had practically begged to do this simple task for me, saying it was a secretary’s pride and duty to make her boss’s coffee throughout the day, but she didn’t understand the significance this richly scented drink held for me.

  It was in these few silent moments, when the single serve fancy coffee pot in the break room would gurgle out my java, that I’d let my mind wander back to those precious few weeks when I’d had everything. When life was simple and easy, and coffee was made in the morning by the only woman who’d ever managed to steal my heart.

  Now it just tasted like watered-down tar. It didn’t matter who made it, or where I went to buy it; nothing would ever be the same and this simple cup of coffee was just a physical reminder of her absence in my life. And of all the ways I’d failed.